


Partiality

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:15:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I believe headmaster Washington’s exact words,” Burr drawls, “were ‘Don’t leave castle grounds, the goblins are still in rebellion’.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partiality

 

 

Aaron looks up from a half-filled roll of parchment when he hears a clatter at the common room door, Alexander trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He taps his quill against his chin, brows raised, and calls across, “Where are you going, Hamilton?”

A flash of teeth, ear-to-ear grin. Alexander waves his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he gestures toward the window, murky green waters billowing outside it. “The centaurs have come to negotiate! Headmaster wants to expand Hogwarts grounds for a greenhouse, but he must first ask permission from our equestrian neighbors. After all the noise and debris from the plumbing installation, he may need to trade one of Salazar Slytherin’s old thingamabobs. I simply cannot miss this.”

Burr’s mouth twists at the idea of Wizarding artifacts (and Alexander referring to them as  _thingamabobs_ )– especially such precious ones as belonged to a Hogwarts founder– in the hands of centaurs. Still, his main concern is far more practical. “I believe headmaster Washington’s exact words,” he drawls, “were ‘Don’t leave castle grounds, the goblins are still in rebellion’.”

“The goblins know me,” says Alexander, “and they are right to rebel.”

Aaron doesn’t doubt that the goblins trust him; Alexander had always expressed sympathy with goblins, house-elves, centaurs and the like. Maybe a half-blood from the West Indies sees a bit of himself in the magical creatures.

“Of course,” Aaron says, voice flat.

“I helped Eargit translate the Goblin Creed for the Ministry.”

Of course he speaks Gobbledegook. Aaron sighs again. “Right.”

“You should come, Burr, I’m meeting John and Gilbert. Professor Mulligan said he wouldn’t reveal us if we were to listen in, since it is such a marvelous opportunity to learn.”

Looking down at his half-finished essay, Aaron shakes his head. Not every student is capable of writing quickly enough to sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night, and not every student has the temerity to do so against explicit instructions. “You enjoy yourself. Tell me how it goes.”

Alexander disappears through the painting in a flash of green. “Sleep well, Burr.”

* * *

 

Hamilton meets Laurens in front of the kitchens, the two of them waiting huddled by the fruit painting until Lafayette tumbles out with a basketful of pastries. He distributes one each to Alexander and John (apple and strawberry, respectively) before taking a slice of pear tart for himself, popping briefly into the Hufflepuff common room to deposit the rest by the door. “I was showing the house-elves how to make frangipane,” he explains, brushing flour off his robes. “They are splendidly clever.”

“You left some for them?”

“That is the least I could do, no?”

Laurens stuffs his mini-tart whole into his mouth, nodding pensively. The idea of house-elves had never appealed to him, though his family owned many (Surely, he’d say, house-elves were something before they were the servants of wizards?) That had endeared him immediately to Alexander, who hadn’t met house-elves until he’d arrived at Hogwarts and immediately found the practice deplorable.

“Professor Mulligan says he will not rat us out if we go,” Alexander says, “but we mustn’t get caught, he will pretend not to know us.”

“Professor Mulligan,” John repeats, a grin on his face. Mulligan had graduated two years ago, ahead of their trio, then taken a position as Charms teacher at Hogwarts. Alexander had proposed that the headmaster wanted him close, the man disappearing for weeks at a time, no doubt on assignment for Washington. “Gilbert should cast the concealment charms,” Laurens continues, “Alexander is best at silencing.”

“Ironic twist of fate,” Lafayette quips, “for someone who does not know how to be silent.”

Laurens interrupts his own chuckling at Alexander’s expense to cuff his friend on the shoulder and ask, “Do you think the centaurs will accept the expansion? They’ve never liked wizards encroaching on their lands.”

“I think they might,” answers Alexander, abruptly serious, “Washington is a powerful man, and centaurs rarely meet with wizards unless they’ve already discussed the terms and found them agreeable.”

“Not like goblins,” observes Lafayette.

“Goblins are never agreeable, no.”

“Your kindred spirits,” says John, laughter back in his voice.

“Goblins know what they want,” retorts Alexander, “and they know how to get it. I am, however, quite agreeable!”

“To some,” Lafayette concedes, “such as us.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be,” says Hamilton, jaw jutting forward, “surrounded by Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs as I am. Those of my own house never question my character.”

“Do you insult Hufflepuffs, sir?” Lafayette straightens, pulls his shoulders back and sticks out his chest, looking indignant. “The headmaster, your fiancee, and myself all take great offense to this.”

“No one insults your house, Lafayette! Nor does anyone impugn your character, Alexander. Only your partiality.”

“Some are more deserving of my affections,” Hamilton sniffs, “such as yourselves, my dearest Eliza, Hogwarts’ inestimable beauty and scholar, Angelica Schuyler…”

Sighs Laurens, “He is as suited to the Wizengamot as anyone I have ever met.”

“Another great man,” Lafayette concurs, “lost to politics.”

“Time slips away,” Hamilton says at last, unable to suppress the fond smile on his face as he drags Lafayette and Laurens toward the Great Hall, “we shall cast our spells as we walk.”

* * *

 

“I had forgotten,” Lafayette mumbles when he meets Alexander on the field the next morning, “that we have a game.” He has dark circles under his eyes, usually neatly-tied hair clumsily secured, dark curls springing out of his head at random points. “Is our dearest Laurens not in the stands?”

“John said he might miss the first half of the game,” says Hamilton, eyes glowing with the aura of one who hasn’t slept in days, “but he shall be present for a Slytherin victory.”

“He said no such thing.”

“He may as well have.”

Eliza comes to them, her broom held carefully at her side as Lafayette throws one affectionate arm over her shoulders. “Just because Laurens has promised to see the end of the game,” she tells Hamilton, “does not mean he believes Slytherin will win, Alexander.”

“Betsey!” Alexander practically struts to her, arms extended, and she allows him to pull her away from Lafayette into an affectionate embrace, nearly lifting her off her feet. “It very much does, though you know I hope for your victory as much as I do my own.”

“Hamilton,” Burr deadpans from behind him, “get in the lineup. The game is about to begin.”

“LADIEEEES AND GENTLEMEEEEEEN!” Angelica Schuyler’s clear voice echoes through the stadium, drawing an ecstatic grin and wave from Eliza, who’s in the middle of securing her final piece of Keeper armor. “Welcome to the first semi-final match of this year’s Quidditch Cup! We have today Slytherin and Hufflepuff, about to be embroiled in a battle for the honor of their houses…”

“As you all know,” Jefferson drawls, “our venerable Hufflepuffs must outscore the Slytherins by one hundred and ten points, which we are all desperately hoping to see…”

“Thomas,” says Angelica, sweetly, “announcers are objective.”

“So you would rather your sister lose to your… whatever Alexander Hamilton is.”

“Please,” Angelica scoffs. “My dearest Eliza knows that despite– and occasionally because of– my occasional correspondence with certain students of a Slytherin persuasion, my sincerest wish is to see her enemies crushed and bleeding in the sand.”

“Alexander,” Aaron mutters out of the side of his mouth, “what did you say to her?”

“We had a slight disagreement regarding how best to advise our Goblin allies on protecting their interests from the greed of avaricious wizards,” he answers despondently. “Gringotts is undergoing certain infrastructural changes, as you know.”

Burr gives him a pitying look, swings one leg over his broom and kicks off.

* * *

 

After a narrow victory for Slytherin, John greets him outside the changing rooms with a hard clap to the shoulder. “You flew well,” he says, “and I hope to see you flying just as well against the Gryffindors, so I may claim an unquestionable victory over yourself and your house.”

Alexander laughs, trying to instill as much scorn as he can into the sound, although with Laurens as the recipient, he fails miserably. “Your dreams sound as though they offer you much comfort,” he retorts instead, only warmth and affection in his voice. With the Wizarding world in such a state of chaos and upheaval, Hamilton can hardly imagine either of them resenting the other for winning a game.

“And you’ve all graciously finished before lunch,” says John, plucking at the collar of his friend’s uniform. “I shall save you a seat in the Great Hall, Alexander.”

“Be sure to speak with Gilbert as well,” Hamilton says anxiously, painfully earnest as he tugs on Laurens’s sleeve, “and tell him that my affection for him remains undiminished despite the thrashing my team has unleashed on his.”

“He knows, but I shall anyway, as our dear marquis never tires of hearing such things.” With a wink, John pulls away. “And now I'll leave you to boasting with your housemates while I deliver the message you've entrusted to me.”

Alexander’s still smiling when he enters the changing room.

**Author's Note:**

> the prompt was hogwarts AU. seeing as this is 18th-century hogwarts, i imagine the years and admissions are somewhat less structured, & that the main trio are in the same year, though they’re different ages and somewhat older than modern students, and by proxy have more responsibilities... 
> 
> since it was written as a prompt, it's definitely not a complete story and was more intended as a collection of snapshots to paint a rough image of how the sons of revolution might have been at hogwarts


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